


Hold On to Me

by xcourtney_chaoticx



Category: Emergency!
Genre: Aromantic, Asexual Character, Ensemble Cast, Gen, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-09 01:20:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8870182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xcourtney_chaoticx/pseuds/xcourtney_chaoticx
Summary: He's learned to treat his disappointment like contentment. He doesn't like it, but it's better than actively feeling disappointed when the hand leaves his shoulder and when the embrace ends too quickly and when the one he's standing close to steps away. Yes, pretending he's content is far better than knowing he will always be disappointed. At least, that's what he tells himself...





	

**Author's Note:**

> As an aro/ace person with a strange fixation on Chet, this is one of my favorite headcanons. I've explored this in other fic, but I wanted to really focus on what it's like when a person doesn't have any desire for a romantic or sexual relationship but really is kind of desperate for physical contact and also how that person's friends respond to that need.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it.

It’s the middle of a shift, listening to Johnny and Marco argue about girls, when Chet realizes something both relieving and confusing all at once. While his friends bicker about what they like best in a woman, he understands that he doesn’t like anything in a woman… and not in a man, either. He can fake attraction with the best of them (which is what he thought everyone was doing for years), but it’s starting to get tedious. He’s tired of being expected to ogle every pretty girl that walks by, to take girls home and come in bragging about his conquests, to keep that pinup in his locker. He’s just so goddamn tired of it all, and he wishes he could tell someone.

Still, despite all that, despite not being interested in relationships or sex or settling down or anything like that, he longs for contact. He wants so desperately to just have someone he could be close to and touch and have touch him. There’s nothing sexual behind it. He just wants to have that closeness, but all his friends are firemen now, and no one wants to be accused of being gay by getting too close. Chet simply settles for the knowledge that he’ll never have the type of relationship he wants. It isn’t pleasant, but it’s better than expecting something he’ll never get. He settles for standing too close and lingering too long. His friends might not notice, even if it makes him feel better. He’s certain they don’t notice… at least, he thinks they don’t.

xXxXx

He’s helping Mike with some of the equipment on the back of the engine when Johnny calls for him, so Chet goes to see what he wants. The next thing he knows, he’s flat on his back, blinking up at the bay ceiling.

“There we go,” he hears Cap say, “He’s awake.”

“Wha-? Wha’ ‘appen’d?”

Chet tries to push himself up, but Cap puts a hand on his chest, saying, “Hey, c’mon now, pal, you just keep still. Do you remember what happened?”

“N-No.”

“Do you know where you are, Chet?”

“ ‘m at the station.”

“Which station?”

“…51s.”

“Good. Chet, do you know what day it is?”

“Umm… ‘s Tuesday. Wha’ happen’d, Cap?”

“You got tripped up comin’ off the back of the engine, and you fell and hit your head pretty hard,” Cap explains calmly, “You got a pretty big knot on the back of your head. Roy checked you over. He’s just waitin’ on the ambulance-“

Chet struggles to get up, sputtering, “N-No-… no ambulance,” fighting a wave of dizziness. Cap presses a little harder on his chest to keep him down and shushes him gently.

“You gave us a pretty big scare, Chet. We just wanna make sure you’re okay, alright, pal?”

A big hand settles on his forehead, the weight warm and comforting, and begins to move back, stroking over his hair. The action immediately calms Chet, his whole body relaxing.

“That’s it,” Cap murmurs, “You just relax, pal. We’re gonna take care of you.”

A soft, contented sigh leaves Chet’s lips. Cap stays with him, smoothing his hair back from his forehead, until the ambulance arrives. Johnny rides in with him, a hand settling on his chest to replace Cap’s, his voice soft as he tells Chet, “You’re alright… you’re gonna be fine.”

xXxXx

The door to the treatment room opens, and they all stand as Dr. Early comes out.

“Marco’s gonna be fine, fellas,” he tells them, “What happened was more scary than anything. He’s got a bit of a sprained ankle, but other than that, he’s fine. You can all go in and see him if you’d like.”

Chet hovers outside the door, hoping they’ll come up with a suitable excuse for why he’s not there.

“Chet?”

Roy stands by him, concern evident in his clear eyes, and asks, “What’s wrong, Chet?”

“It’s my fault,” he says quietly, “It’s all my fault Marco’s hurt. I shoulda been quicker or more observant or-“

“Now you cut that out. You’re gonna drive yourself crazy with all those ‘shouldas’ and ‘couldas.’ What happened happened, and it’s nobody’s fault. Honestly, you were the first to realize something was wrong and that Marco wasn’t there. You helped save his life.”

Roy reaches out and grips Chet’s shoulder, squeezing gently, thumb stroking over the fabric of his shirt. The gesture is small but comforting. Coming from Roy, who isn’t particularly tactile, the touch is as good as a hug.

“You did a great job, Chet… now let’s go in so Marco can tell you himself.”

He gives Chet’s shoulder another squeeze before carefully guiding him into the treatment room.

xXxXx

“Chet? Everything alright?” Mike asks, stepping into the dorm.

He comes over and sits on the bunk beside Chet’s, just looking at him. Chet doesn’t particularly want to talk, but when he looks over to Mike, he can’t help himself.

“I let you down, Mike.”

Mike cocks his head a bit.

“How?”

“I bombed the engineer’s exam.”

His head is still cocked, like he doesn’t understand what Chet’s talking about. Chet sighs, sits up, says, “I let you down ‘cause I failed the test. You spent so much time with me, explainin’ things to me, helpin’ me study, showin’ me how to do things… and I blew it. You probably think I’m an idiot.”

“I don’t think that. And I don’t think you failed it, either. There were plenty of guys on the list lower than you, and besides, that list doesn’t tell you your score, just where you ranked, and that rank has a lot of factors in it, too.”

“Then how come you ranked first the first time you took it?”

“I’m a special case. Nobody ever does that well their first time.”

“Except you.”

“Except me,” Mike smirks, “but I’m a prodigy.”

Chet snorts but sobers quickly.

“Chet, listen to me. You didn’t let me down,” Mike tells him, moving to sit beside him, “Do I wish you’d done better? Of course. We all do, if it would make you feel better. That’s the only reason we’re upset is ‘cause you are. You’re our friend, Chet. We want you to be happy.”

He smooths his hand over Chet’s back, running up and down his spine. Chet leans in slightly. Mike continues the gentle contact, trying to soothe Chet’s disquiet, and it works while it’s happening. For now, it’s good enough.

xXxXx

Marco stumbles slightly, swears, adjusts his hold on Chet. Chet’s got an arm around his middle, clutching his cramping abdomen, his other arm tight around Marco.

“We’re almost there. Just hang on.”

“Christ, Marco, I’m dehydrated, not dyin.’ Just get me sat down with some water.”

His partner grumbles but keeps moving toward the command post. Both Johnny and Roy are busy with other firemen. Marco sits Chet down and calls for a paramedic. The one who comes looks young, with a round face and big glasses and a mop of brown hair.

“What seems to be the trouble?” he asks.

“My partner here is dehydrated, probably has heat exhaustion. He passed out-“

“I did not!”

“Fine. He ‘collapsed’ about ten minutes ago.”

“What are your symptoms, Kelly?”

“Umm… I got some cramping… little dizzy, little shaky… bit of a headache…”

The paramedic (his nametag says Brice) reaches out and takes his pulse, feels his forehead.

“Do you feel up to drinking on your own, or would you like me to administer an IV?”

Before he can answer, someone shouts for a medic, urgency apparent. Brice turns to look at them, and Marco tells him, “You go. That’s more important. We can handle this.”

The fireman shouts again. Brice is off like a rocket. They watch him for a moment before Marco gives Chet’s turnout a tug, saying, “C’mon, let’s get you cooled down… c’mere…”

He moves Chet out of the small command post to a spot under a tree and carefully starts helping him out of his turnouts. Under normal circumstances, Chet would be embarrassed to have this happening in the open, especially when Marco starts dabbing his face and chest with a cool towel. It just feels so nice he can’t be bothered to care.

“Here, make sure to drink some water, _manito_.”

“Okay, okay…”

He takes the cup from Marco and sips slowly. Marco smiles gently and continues helping to cool him off.

xXxXx

Nothing feels real. Chet knows he’s in Rampart, but it just doesn’t feel real. Everything feels like a dream, a horrible dream. Dr. Early had given him a full once over, making sure he wasn’t hurt, but it hardly felt like it was happening to him, instead felt like he was watching it on TV or something. Even the hands shaking in his lap didn’t feel like his.

“Chet? Chet, can you hear me, man?”

He blinks, realizing the voice is talking to him, and looks around. Johnny is looking at him, concern in his brown eyes. It’s their day off. They just planned on hanging out and had stopped at the liquor store for some beer. It was just their bad luck that someone decided to rob the place with a knife. The guy was clearly tweaking out on something, and as soon as he realized he and the clerk weren’t alone, he slashed the clerk and booked it. Chet and Johnny did everything they could but to no avail. He blinks again.

Johnny is right in front of him, hands on his shoulders. He looks almost afraid.

“Alright, pal, you just sit right here. We’ll get ya all cleaned up, and then I want ya to come spend the rest of the day with me. I don’t want you alone. Hell, I don’t wanna be alone myself. Here…”

Watching as Johnny carefully cleans the blood off his hands, he wishes he were able to enjoy the feeling, but again, he feels like he’s watching from the outside, feels oddly numb. He’s almost unperturbed when he’s suddenly in Johnny’s apartment with no memory of getting there.

“Chet, you’re not okay. Please… talk to me. Tell me what’s goin’ on.”

His voice is pleading. Chet starts shaking, shivering as if he’d just been plunged into cold water, and in no time, Johnny has a blanket wrapped around him. It’s just him and Johnny now, his best friend Johnny who is sweet and kind and good and loving and (the thing Chet needs most right now) tactile. He reaches out, taking Chet’s face in his hands, whispers, “Please tell me what’s wrong, Chet.”

“I-I can’t,” he finally replies, willing his voice to work, “I dunno how to explain it. Just-… I dunno, I feel like-… like-… I’m cold… so cold I’m numb all over an-an-an-“

“Hey hey hey, calm down, babe, calm down. You’re okay,” Johnny soothes, his thumbs stroking over Chet’s cheeks, “You don’t hafta say anymore ‘cept for a couple things. Tell me, do ya need to go back to Rampart?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Okay… okay… then just tell me what you need me to do.”

“You won-won’t laugh?”

“I won’t laugh.”

Pulling in a shuddering breath, Chet says quietly, “I just-… could I just lay here an-and you could hold me? I-I just need you to touch me so I can figure out this is real.”

“Whatever you need, Chet, okay? You do what you need, and I’ll be here for you, okay?”

Chet’s still shaking. He manages to get Johnny into the position he wants and promptly lays with his head in Johnny’s lap, facing his belly, still wrapped in the blanket. It feels nice. Johnny is warm and soft, and he smells of sweat and hospital soap. It’s grounding. Chet immediately feels slender fingers weave into his hair to gently rub at his scalp. Another hand finds his flank and strokes over it. Chet tries to settle himself, focuses on the varying pressure along his flank, on the gentle scratching and rubbing at his scalp, on the sound of Johnny’s slow, even breaths. It’s comforting.

“Feelin’ better now, Chet?” Johnny murmurs.

“Yeah… yeah, I feel better.”

There’s a quiet huff of laughter above him, Johnny’s abdomen shifting with the breath.

“Well, that’s good… and y’know what?”

“What?”

“I’m feelin’ better, too.”

Chet turns his head slightly to look up, and the two friends share a smile. Neither moves.


End file.
